


It's Gonna Be a Cool Night

by Wawa_Girl



Series: Never Dance Alone [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Romance, Starmora Week, Starmora Week 2018, Summer Vacation, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-03 15:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15821328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wawa_Girl/pseuds/Wawa_Girl
Summary: The stakes weretoohigh.Day 1: Summer Trip / Mission





	It's Gonna Be a Cool Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lettersfromnowhere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromnowhere/gifts).



The sun was beaming. The landscape, destroyed.

The war had been enduring for hours.

Peter Quill was exhausted.

_Come on..._

_Where are you?_

The Terran had outsmarted every ambush thus far, but he _could not_ risk another. He was confident, experienced, and thankfully _dry_ , but also soaked in sweat and could barely stand, feet on fire. Another ruse while his whole body was begging him to quit, _and_ he was running dangerously low on ammunition? It would be the end.

_Losing's not an option. I can't._

_Four down._

Over half the enemies had been taken out. The number of opponents shrank after countless cycles of hiding and chasing, spending the day running in courage and perseverance. Their gradual terminations were a pitiful sight. Disgusting, sticky, multi-colored liquids covered their faces, attire, and the grass under them.

They had challenged the wrong expert shot in the galaxy.

_Just one more._

A single adversary remained. The one rival Peter hadn't seen since the battle began. The highest ranked warrior, their stealth and camouflage skills excellent. He was most looking forward to defeating this one, but knew their long absence meant trouble.

_You've got this, Star-Lord._

He peered around a soiled tree to view the battlefield, and cautiously stepped over a yellow glob in the dirt, before starting to _The Benatar_ to reload and gather more backup. And for a safe place to rest.

The leader rushed into the cargo hold and opened the closet to scan through his available stash. Think quick. Grab more tubes of ammo - easy. He was down to two vials. Replace his gun clip - his current one was cracked and useless, and all of his extras had been stolen. Classy.

 _Oh yeah, turn back on your mask, you dolt._ It was deactivated so his red eyes wouldn't attract attention, but the humidity was suffocating, and his own ship should be a place where breathing was free.

Shoving supplies into his pack, he hissed in pain as his mask brushed a spot on his forehead. He touched it with the tip of his index finger and saw...red.

_Shit. Shit, no. No, no, no..._

_Oh._

It was just blood.

 _Ha, blood. Duh._ Yeah, he was bleeding. There was a tiny puncture in his skin. What a relief.

First-aid could wait. Survival could wait. _This_ was important.

The stakes were too high. He could already taste...

A rustle outside and footsteps approaching the entrance. Peter Quill whipped around, holding out his gun with both hands as a warning, and planting his boots firm.

_Finally! Show yourself!_

The weapon was aimed at nobody.

"I don't shoot unarmed fighters!" he called out to the hiding coward, gritting his teeth and removing his mask, quick to grip his pistol again.

Finger hovering over the trigger.

"Except today," he added with a smirk, pulling a second gun from his back holster and splattering the room in chemicals.

No person in sight.

_Hmmm._

They were _good_.

But one didn't spend decades as an intergalactic, legendary outlaw without some special tricks.

Lamenting the near miss, securing the supply lock, and glancing at the ship's chronometer, Star-Lord _finally_ saw something through the window in the distance of the field. 

_Aha! There you are..._

His first instinct was to duck until mentally forming a strategy, but a better look at the image gave him pause.

Green skin. Pink and purple hair. Black leather clothing.

Unmoving body.

He continued squinting, trying to rationalize the concept, the scene making him more and more uncomfortable.

_Gamora?_

It could be a trap. She was probably fine. She was rarely seriously injured, and this was just--

Mind jumping to worst-case scenarios, his throat closed and he realized he wasn't risking it. If she somehow was hurt, if something happened...

Dashing outside to the scene and saying "screw it" to all other priorities, he fell at her body and tossed his guns to the right side.

"Mora! Are you okay?"

No answer. _Fuck. What happened?_

"Gamora!" he shouted, noticing her chest was just as unmoving as her face and limbs. She was completely dry and spotless, unhit. No blood either. So what...?

"Answer me! What happened?"

Silence.

"Ugh!" Peter screamed, and began ripping off his gloves to check for a pulse. "Guys! Help!" The goddamn sweat was causing his gloves to _stick_. "Crap, guys, time-out! It's Gamora! She--"

_Splat!_

The Terran's left glove was halfway off his pinky when he was met with a yellow ball of paint to the face.

"...won," the woman on the ground said with a huge smile. Her open eyes glistened with joy and victory. A gun in her dominant hand was pointed inches from the leader's nose.

Peter sighed in equal measure relief and exasperation.

_Yep. A trap._

_Damn her._

The former assassin lifted herself to sit, laughing at her boyfriend's marked, loser face. The Zehoberei was the picture of health - strong, agile, and the Guardian's official paintball champion.

"Eyes on the prize," she repeated his phrase, though subdued her laughter into a mild giggle when he still didn't open his eyes. "Peter?" she asked, tilting her head in concern.

He finally smiled and rolled his eyes in amusement. "Eyes on the prize," he stated, spitting some paint out of his mouth to land on her legs. "Why did I expect anything less than a cheap move from _you_?"

Gamora stood up straight and crossed her arms in defense. "You said no rules."

"I am Groot," a grumpy voice came from a tired player still scratching dried pink paint off his bark, wandering out of a tent designed to blend in with the forest.

"This last day of vacation blows." Rocket trailed behind the adolescent, complaining and yawning despite his earlier maniacal laughter and energy while firing paintballs with triple-muzzle guns, before Drax had chosen the raccoon's now rainbow-colored vest as a target. "Quill gettin' blasted in the face to look like a Sovereign jester is the next best thing to winning this dumb game."

"It was a hysterical sight!" the destroyer bellowed, wearing smeared paint like a proud symbol on his chest.

Peter tore his gaze from their four teammates to squint in suspicion at his devious girlfriend. "You had help planning this?"

She cleared her throat and looked serious. "Playing dead, _as well as_ playing to enemy weakness, is a skill I developed long ago," she said, almost affronted. "But yes," she added with a proud smile. "Once the game narrowed down to the two of us, I recruited some allies."

"The promise was too enticing!" Mantis said animatedly, her palms appearing like a kindergartener's during Arts and Crafts Day. "Gamora's choice ice cream flavor sounds...yummy!"

Peter sighed again, in fondness at the group of traitors, and at the camp sporting area the heroes had tarnished during their competition. Gamora gave a _'thank-you'_ nod in their friends' direction, and wiped the human's cheeks with her thumbs.

"Chocolate is overrated, Peter."

**********

The scents of homemade willamco-berry ice cream, non-toxic paint, and shower soap bubbles filled _The Benatar_.

"It will take several days after we leave to fully clean the ship," Gamora said with her hands soaked in a bowl of mashed, frozen ingredients. "And likely six-hundred extra units to pay for the damages at the resort we won't have time to fix."

"You make it sound like you had nothing to do with all this," Peter said, gesturing a milk-covered hand around the stained vehicle interior, the sole exceptions being the windshield they hosed down between desert preparation, and the console they had fortunately covered before the game.

"The competition was _your_ idea, Peter," she reminded. "Something about 'kicking off' the end of the trip, and settling this crucial decision regarding the flavor of our homemade sweets?"

He scoffed. "Doesn't change the fact that you went all ballistic Linda Hamilton with those guns the second we began."

"Who?"

"Forget it. The best woman won. No offense," he told Mantis, who was standing beside the galley's fridge.

"Hee hee! Peter lost at his own Earth game!" The bug girl laughed, and resumed licking her own bowl of likely uncompleted ice cream.

Their _Captain_ dug his fingers further into the pink and white goop in front of him. "Yeah, yeah, so you all witnessed. Second place is still impressive, and the only reason--"

"Here," Gamora cut him off. "Tell me this even _compares_ to simple _chocolate_ ," she teased with false disgust, and drove a spoon into her boyfriend's mouth.

The human had approximately three seconds to look surprised before admitting the truth. "Mmm," he said as the sweet dairy hit his taste buds. "Delicious," he professed with a smile. She gave an _'I told you so'_ look and used a fleeting peck of a kiss to clean his lips.

"You still can't go wrong with double chocolate, though," he couldn't help mutter, and Drax interrupted before Gamora could argue.

"But why must we use primitive methods to create the post-battle ice snack?" the large man asked again, crushing blocks of ice with a knife, and with far more strength and intensity than necessary. Five completed and ready-to-eat bowls were already sitting at his workstation. "There is a purchasing area with the same flavor down the road."

"I told you guys, it's part of the summer experience," Peter explained to his very slow teammates. "Just like paintball."

Peter had claimed to be an expert on the game, but really had only played the sport once on Earth - a family reunion picnic at age seven, where the code name "Star-Lord" had clearly irritated his older cousins who defeated him. The rules were simple then - last person without paint on them wins. It was a new phenomenon at the time; he didn't know if it was still popular, or more complicated, thirty years later. But being the excellent sharpshooter he grew up to become, it seemed like the perfect game for the team to enjoy, and for Peter to ultimately win.

If it wasn't for Gamora's dirty tricks.

"Both were fine suggestions," the green woman to his right said softly. They had all chosen various activities during their two-week trip, some bordering on dangerous and illegal, and Peter really wanted to exit with a bang of awesome memories. "This is a soothing routine," Gamora said, pleasantly smelling her ice cream dish, aware she also didn't need to keep making more batches.

"I had fun!" Mantis piped in. "My hands are so cold and numb!" she said full of glee, showing no care if it affected her powers. "My head hurts! My brain is like a frozen rock. Amazing."

The sound of the bathroom door opening and a large release of steam wafted into the galley. "Shower's free," Rocket said, emerging with wet fur and a towel snug around his torso. "Where's my bowl?"

Peter pointed to the fresh batch near Drax, and dried his hands on his clean pants. "How many hairballs you clog in the drain this time?"

"Less than you two idiots!" the raccoon immediately barked back, before shoveling a ladle full of ice cream into his mouth.

"I am Groot." The tree was half-sitting, half-lounging under the air conditioning vent, chipping paint onto the floor and furniture, and letting his bowl contents melt into a puddle.

"Watch your vulgar sass," Rocket scolded. "And get in the shower now. There's no one else left!"

"I am Groot!"

"You're not stayin' that filthy and stinky before bed! Shower!"

"If he chooses to postpone his cleansing until the morning..."

"We're flyin' outta here tomorrow, and he's bein' LAZY!"

"Psst," Gamora whispered in Peter's ear before he had the chance to settle into the pilot seat with his dish and spoon. She took his hand and nodded at the window, silently asking him to join her outside. He smirked in understanding and accepted the offer, the two putting their stealth to good work for the second time that day, sneaking out as the family bickered.

The parking ground and recreation service of West Littace-774 was tarnished due to the Guardians of the Galaxy's mess covering every cabin, sign, and landmark in a one-hundred mile radius.

"We didn't...completely destroy it," he commented. The owners should have felt honored to have such a famous team chose their small business for a vacation. "Mostly just paint, and a few broken walls. What usually happens when they allow guests to play sports?"

"Less than this," Gamora gave her honest opinion, though without any judgment. Three-quarters of that destruction had been _her_ doing. "It was worth it." She sighed and leaned against him, taking another bite and savoring her prize flavor. The sun was almost fully set, the air less comforting than _The Benatar_ 's AC, but less scorching than during the epic battle.

"It was worth the money, too?" he asked her with fake incredulity.

"Yes," she simply admitted, despite her practical financial concerns. "We needed this." She swallowed more willamco-berry ice cream and he followed suit. Her contentment was a heartwarming sign of their entire crew's assimilation. "I'll miss this planet's sky patterns," she said dreamily, head on his shoulder. Peter couldn't disagree. It was a lovely view beyond their post-paintball debris.

A fair ending to summer vacation.

Granted, it wasn't "summer" outside of Earth. However, given the hotter temperature season on their typical side of the galaxy, a relaxing, fun trip after a series of draining missions felt right. Their leader was happy the overall idea, and his votes for final day activities, had been easy to persuade the family.

The couple fell into comfortable silence, a kind breeze passing by where they leaned against the ship's rails. Drax and Rocket's fighting over Groot's decisions were faintly audible.

"Thanks for getting us outta there," Peter eventually mumbled. "The ice cream making went well, but I could only take so many remarks about...uh..." he trailed off.

"How you lost?" she teased with a smile, looking straight ahead.

" _Why_ I lost," he specified, a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

"Oh." Gamora's face fell. "I didn't realize...

"Ha, no, it's fine," he brushed it off. He was amused at first; they were _all_ treating the game like the end of the world. It was a trap he should have expected. 

But later while washing off the paint and sweat in the shower together (they were going to be using a _lot_ of water scrubbing paint off their home; they needed to _conserve_ ), he remembered and grew frustrated at how her ploy had caused his chest to tighten and heart to race, fearing a random, genuine nutcase enemy had broken in and attacked her--

Well, easy to say the added stress of Rocket taunting him about being "gullible and paranoid," especially considering the snarky asshat _stole his gun clip_ , was becoming unbearable.

"I viewed it as harmless," Gamora said in an apologetic tone. "A short period of time. I wanted to win. I knew it would work," she listed the unfair excuses and turned to face him, realizing the cruelty in letting Peter think for even a second she could be dying, humiliating him about that terror in front of the team, using their love against him.

"Hey, it wasn't cheating. One rule: Last Guardian standing."

She sighed in guilt again. "Peter..."

He turned serious and took an awkward spoonful of mostly melted ice cream. The taste sent him back to late summer evenings in Missouri. Chilling at the quaint, private-owned ice cream shop two miles from their house. Just him and Mom dangling their legs over the balcony railing, staring at the karate school parking lot. Listening to the _The Turtles_ with shared headphones. Mom promising their homemade ice cream was far better, as they mixed their chocolate and strawberry cones together.

Space flavors _were_ equally intoxicating and yummy.

"Not _angry_ , but...you probably would've won anyway," he conceded. The fiercest warrior in the universe _always_ won their games. "I may be a coolass, Ravager-trained shot, but--"

"You're right," she interrupted, focusing on his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Just...don't scare me like that again?" he asked softly, not caring about his vulnerability over such a large, deep fear showing. "If I ever really lost you..."

"I know," she repeated, and brushed her fingers through his damp hair and over his forehead bandage. "I won't," she whispered, promised. "The...the stakes were just _so high_ ," she attempted to joke. "And Groot was tired--"

"Thanks."

The paintball champion then kissed the smeared desert off the runner-up's mouth again. "Next game, fair and circular."

The Terran rolled his eyes at her butchered term. She stepped further down the field, the site of her infamous victory. He smiled watching his girlfriend move her head to Neil Diamond playing inside the ship, and she admired the complete night sky. Moonlight bounced off _The Benatar_ 's roof, and off the windows of the camp owner's main office building, that had remained suspiciously quiet since the legendary team's arrival.

"I sure _was_ looking forward to splattering you, though," Peter teased, partly to let her know they were okay. Partly because it was _true_.

A huff of confident laughter broke through the quiet air. "Can't be done," the warrior stated, turning around to face him before--

_Splat!_

Gamora gaped down in shock at the glob of ice cream on her shoulder, and back up the innocent expression on her boyfriend's face.

The plastic spoon covering his lips failed to hide Star-Lord's impish grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Starmora Week!
> 
> I promise these won't all have painful _Infinity War_ foreshadowing (or will they?).
> 
> Title is from _Cool Night_ by Paul Davis.
> 
> Day 1 is gifted to [thingssunspokenorotherwise](https://thingssunspokenorotherwise.tumblr.com) on tumblr, who has been an awesome friend this year, and without her fun conversations, support, and encouragement, I wouldn't have found the motivation to complete any of these stories. Check out her fanfics and blog! ^_^
> 
> My _Guardians of the Galaxy_ tumblr is [here](https://marypoppinswasmyfatherbitches.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
